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80 flight without perceiving him, for the moon was now obscured by clouds, and flew to the extremity of the terrace, which fronted on that side upon a second street, wider than the first. Distrusting her ability to leap it, she seemed to be casting her eyes about for some nook in which to conceal herself, and noticing a great marble vase, she hid within it, like the genie who re-enters the cup of a lily.

The raging troop, came upon the terrace with the impetuosity of a flight of demons. Their black or copper-colored faces, either with long mustaches or else hideously beardless, their flashing eyes, their clenched hands, brandishing kandjars or blades of Damascus, the ferocity expressed upon their degraded and cruel countenances, inspired Mahmoud-Ben-Ahmed with a feeling of terror, although he was personally a brave man and well skilled in the use of arms. They gave a rapid glance over the unoccupied terrace and, not beholding the fugitive there, doubtless thought she had passed the second street, and continued onward in their pursuit without paying further attention to Mahmoud-Ben-Ahraed.

When the clash of their weapons and the noise of their babooshes upon the flagstones of the terraces had died away in the distance, the fugitive first raised her pretty, pale face above the edge of the vase and looked about her with the air of a frightened antelope, then her shoulders emerged and she stood erect, a charming pistil rising from the depths of that great flower of marble; perceiving that there was no one there but Mahmoud-Ben-Ahmed, who was smiling upon her and making signs that she had no cause for fear, she leaped lightly from the vase and came